


Bittersweet Treats

by Kissed_by_Circe



Series: College AU [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23612632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissed_by_Circe/pseuds/Kissed_by_Circe
Summary: Sansa keeps eating during her history lections, which proves to be quite the distraction for Professor Snow 😉
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: College AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699600
Comments: 11
Kudos: 83





	Bittersweet Treats

**Author's Note:**

> So, one of my former teachers, Mrs K, allowed us to eat chips and gummy bears in class, but confiscated cookies and chocolate, then atethem in front of us 😂 that's where the part with the stealing came from

⚡

i.

She’s sitting in the front row again, and he wonders how the other professors see her, the preppy, but stylish outfit in peach and pink, the way she scrunches her freckled nose, how she scribbles down notes and highlights some thing or the other with pastel coloured text markers – and the never-ending line of baked goods coming out of her bag and wandering into her mouth and into the hands of the students sitting next to her. Cookies, brownies, muffins, even cupcakes with fucking _buttercream_ , without making a mess in her satchel, getting stains on her clothes, or leaving a single crumb on her chin or the floor, and he thinks that she might be torturing him.

Maybe one of his colleagues hates him and his lax rules about students eating in class enough to pay or bribe her to delicately nibble on the most delicious looking – and smelling – pastries he’s ever seen, trying to get him to be stricter, but if that’s the case, it’s definitely not working, because he may be pathetic, but he also really, _really_ enjoys being tortured like this. But _this…_ this is too much for him. He’s not sure what kind of cake it is, the only things he sees are white cream, a bit of yellow cake under it, and her soft, pink lips around it, and then the way she moans ends him completely.

She’s the kind of girl that’s usually the teachers’ pet, always so polite and sweet, on time and well organised and _a joy to have in class_ , she’s intelligent and her essays are good, so all of her professors must love her and dote on her. He almost hates himself when he calls her name and she’s looking up, a panicked expression on her pretty face, her mouth still full of cake, her eyes wide. “Miss Stark.” The horror in her eyes will probably haunt him forever, and she’s forcefully swallowing cake and cream while her cheeks flush a bright shade of red, before she manages to gasp a horrified, quiet “Yes, Professor Snow?”

He walks over to her slowly, and tries his damned best to smile and appear friendly, because she looks like she’s on the verge of a panic attack, and tells her quietly, softly, “Your eating is disturbing my lessons. You’re not in any trouble, but I fear I have to confiscate your food,” while holding out his hand. Her cheeks colour even more when the students behind her start mumbling – this never happened before, he says nothing, even when people order food and the delivery guys walk through his class room, he didn’t even intervene when someone did a barbeque in the last row, just told them to open the window and be careful with the smoke and flames – but she hands over the offending piece of cake and starts digging in her purse for the rest.

He returns to his desk with more Tupperware than he’s owned in his entire live.

ii.

Her face, her brain, her entire head feels hot – almost as hot as her professor.

She’s not sure if he’s still as hot as he was before he stole her snacks, before he called her out in front of the whole class, before he made her panic, if just for a moment, because she knows that he’s not the cruel or creepy kind of professor that’d humiliate a student, but when he leans back against his desk and pushes his glasses up his long nose, she’s sure that his degree of hotness didn’t change, even if he’s treating her unfairly. No one’s ever gotten in trouble for eating in his class. No one ever had their food confiscated. No one’s ever lost the work of several hours like that. She didn’t stand in the crappy kitchen of the tiny apartment she shares with two other students, baking her ass off just for him to confiscate her cakes and cookies. If he throws them in the trash now, she’ll scream.

But no, he’s not throwing them away. He’s putting them on his desk, and then, and she can’t believe what’s happening right now, he’s taking one of the lemon cakes – the ones with Bavarian cream filling and white chocolate frosting – and takes a huge bite. She can see that he likes the taste from the way he’s closing his eyes, clearly savouring the flavour of lemon and chocolate and cream, and she finds that she enjoys seeing him like this. She likes watching him, the way he moves and that sweet half smile, like the one he gave her when he walked over to her, which made her knees go weak, because it’s sexy and cute and it was just for her in that moment, and how his jeans are too tight, but now she’s imagining seeing that expression on his face in other situations.

Like on a date, when she’s cooking for him. Or when he’s throwing his head back while she’s riding him – no, that’s impossible. He’s her professor, and she already had problems with finding a history class she can attend, a class taught by someone who’s not her uncle in some way, so he’s off limits to her. But when the guy sitting directly behind her opens a box of Chinese take-out and starts eating really, _really_ loudly, she realises that he didn’t confiscate her food because she was too loud. Maybe he just wanted that cake, she muses, and grins to herself. If he wants cake, he shall have it.

And if he’s eating it like that again in front of the whole class, and in front of her, then that wouldn’t hurt anybody, now would it?

iii.

For the rest of the semester, she hands over some pastry or something sweet at the beginning of each lecture with a cheeky grin, but she stops eating in his class because she’s not _that_ cheeky, and when she gives him the last one, she asks if he’d like to come over for coffee sometime. He agrees, but only if he’ll get to taste something sweet.


End file.
